


A Bad Time In Macau

by FanficsbyVe



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, McHanzo - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-08
Updated: 2016-12-08
Packaged: 2018-09-07 08:50:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8791273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FanficsbyVe/pseuds/FanficsbyVe
Summary: McCree has a habit of getting Hanzo into bad situations. One-shot.





	

**Author's Note:**

> One day, I will actually write some smut about McHanzo and Widowtracer. But it is not this day. Not while the Soulsborne/Skyrim crossover is still looming over my shoulder.  
> Anyway, I had a lot of fun writing this. I hope other people will enjoy reading it, even though I'm a very casual Overwatch fan who doesn't play.

The very first thing Hanzo Shimada noticed as he awoke was a splitting headache, so severe that he forwent any attempt to actually get up. He groaned as he lay back, though the pillow didn’t provide as much relief as he wanted. Instead, he opted to stay as still as he possibly could, staring at the cracks of the ceiling. A ceiling, he noted, that definitely didn’t belong to his room. Also, why on earth was he naked again?

From the looks of it, he was in a hotel room and a reasonably cheap kind at that. Judging from the sound of merchants outside shouting in Mandarin, he was in some place where they spoke Chinese. From the corner of his eye, he saw a gaudy Valextra suitcase lying on the rickety desk, no doubt filled with thousands of yen. That last one definitely got his brain cells going again or would have if they weren’t swimming in what he assumed to be booze.

It was only then that he noticed another clue as to why he was here. A very naked Jesse McCree, still knocked out cold and snoring loudly. On the nightstand beside him was what looked like very bloodied custom watch, as well as expensive sunglasses and some cufflinks with a Triad symbol.

The former Shimada scion let out a deep sigh. Now he remembered why he was here and what had happened. It was a mess. A mess that was once a mission but descended into a very bad night involving Triad members, a payload and some terrible judgment from a certain pain in the ass bounty hunter. 

_**-Macau, the day before-**_

If there was one thing Hanzo had never become comfortable with, it was wearing a suit. Once upon a time, it should have been his standard attire when he took over the Shimada clan, but it was one of the few things from his past he didn’t miss. He despised them, particularly for the lack of movement they afforded him and the false sense of sophistication it presented. A real man wore his intentions on his sleeve and he was a warrior, not a politician and certainly not a gentleman.

So it was with no small sense of discomfort that he was sitting at a small table in a quiet corner, feeling like he was suffocating in one of those Armani atrocities. This was certainly not helped by the smoky atmosphere of the rather prestigious Golden Horse Club, in a more quiet corner of Macau. A place both rich and questionable, therefore perfectly catering to the kind of clientele that made a lot of money in less than legal ways. 

Of course, that made it exactly the kind of place where his current target, Dragon Head Tse Sichang of the 20K Triad, would spend his free time. A relatively young Red Pole who recently got promoted, he had become drunk on power so quickly that it had led him to so many stupid things in such a short time it was a miracle he was still alive at all. After several sloppy assassinations, extortions and an incident that somehow involved a business man’s wife, honey and a donkey in a bath house, he had now topped it by stealing valuable artifacts directly from the Museum of Macau and had been as subtle as a bull in a china shop about it.

Hanzo had privately been called up to rectify this. Some very wealthy businessman had called him up and tasked him with retrieving the items and returning them. Clearly they were desperate enough if they even considered hiring a Japanese man anyway. Not that it mattered to him. There was money in this and he needed to eat.

So now, he was here, having tracked the young Dragon Head to this location. A contact had managed to get him in through the backdoor, with his bow and arrows wrapped in cloth, and offered him the suit to blend in. He knew Sichang would try to sell the objects here to skeevy clients. All he would have to do was wait for the opportunity to snatch the payload and then quietly make his way out again, disappearing into the night before anyone caught on. 

It should be an easy task. He’d pulled off heists like these many times before. He was a mercenary but a tactful one and stealth was his game. All he had to do was wait for the opportune moment…

“Well, well, talk about a lucky coincidence! Hanzo! Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes!”

The mercenary cringed, eyes snapping shut before cracking one back open in the direction of the sound. A deep groan left his mouth. The Gods must be playing a cruel prank on him this night.

In front of him stood Jesse McCree, bounty hunter extraordinaire who somehow ended up being his more than just occasional bedmate. The man was grinning broadly, smoking one of those Cuban cigars he loved so much. He too was dressed in a suit, topped off by a black leather cowboy hat, which made him look about as inconspicuous as a clown in a sea of mimes. 

It wasn’t that Hanzo disliked the man. In fact, their constant trysts proved quite the contrary. It was rather that the man was as subtle as a brick to the face and his methods included less stealth and tact and more firearms and explosions. Which, while handy and entertaining sometimes, was not what he was currently going for. 

The Shimada son was nearly having a heart attack when the cowboy casually plonked down beside him. He grit his teeth, nervously looking around to see if anyone was paying attention to them. When he was certain this wasn’t the case, he turned to his unwanted companion, hissing under his breath. 

“What are you doing here?”

The bounty hunter grinned. “I’m here for a mission, same as you likely. Beer?”

The mercenary glared. “No. And if you’re busy, then why are you bothering me?”

A chuckle was his response. “Oh come on! I can’t even say hello to my not-quite boyfriend?”

“I am _not_ your boyfriend!”

If people had not been paying attention to them before, they certainly were after that outburst. Hanzo could suddenly feel at least a few dozen pair of eyes looking at the two of them and he quietly wished he could just sink through the ground and disappear. When that wish wasn’t going to come true, he quickly gestured to the nearest waiter to quickly get that beer McCree had suggested. He really felt like he needed alcohol right now…

Once the drinks placed in front of them, he grabbed it and took a massive gulp. Jesse, in the meantime, casually sipped his while scanning the environment like a hawk. When Hanzo felt the attention directed at them had decreased again, he quietly whispered to his companion, determined to get him out of his hair as quickly as possible. 

“So who are you after?”

The bounty hunter wiped his mouth with his hand. “Tse Sichang. Up-jumped little 20K head honcho that managed to piss off nearly all his allies in his first few weeks of power. Only slightly faster than me in ticking people off, really.”

That made the mercenary smirk. Almost. This news only made things worse.

“We have a problem then. I also have my sights set on Sichang. I’m to take a suitcase with stuff he stole.”

McCree cocked his head. “Why is that a problem? I shoot him, you take the suitcase and we’ll both be on our merry way.”

Hanzo grunted and rolled his eyes. “We’re in the middle of a club filled with Triad members, career criminals and other kinds of miscreants. What makes you think you can simply shoot this man and then walk away whistling?”

“Because I can?”

“Jesse, no.”

McCree let out an annoyed sigh. “Then what do you suggest? That we walk up and kindly ask this guy if we can kill him and have his suitcase? I’m sure he’ll trip over himself to say yes to that kind of offer.”

By now, the mercenary felt like introducing his own forehead to the table. “No. You wait for me to steal that suitcase and leave. Then, you look for a quiet moment to get Sichang alone. Then do what you must and get out.”

“Ah, but what would be the fun in that?”

“I hate you so much sometimes…”

So engaged were they in this debate that Hanzo only noticed the man approaching the table until it was too late. The next thing he knew, he found himself looking at Tse Sichang, flanked by several mooks and associates, staring the both of them down arms crossed. Almost instantly, the mercenary went quiet, quickly trying to assess the situation and what to do next. Jesse, however, wasn’t that discreet. 

“I’m flattered you’re eyeballin’ me, gentlemen, but I’m already spoken for.”

The man glared at him. “I don’t care for you, American. I’m more interested in your friend over here.”

Those words had Hanzo freeze, as he locked eyes with the grinning Dragon Head. “Hanzo Shimada. Prodigal son of the Shimada clan. You’re rather brave to show yourself after turning your back on your people.”

The mercenary simply glared. “I do not hide from those who’d call me dishonorable. Only cowards do. And the Shimada clan are the greatest cowards of them all.”

Sichang laughed. “Ooh, fighting words. No wonder the clan isn’t too happy about you still prancing around. In fact, they recently put up a nice, juicy bounty on your head, especially separated from your body. And I’m in a rather greedy mood today…”

It was at that moment that Hanzo could literally feel his heart skip a beat. He knew about the bounty, but he figured he’d been out of the public eye long enough to be forgotten. Clearly, that wasn’t the case. 

His brain started working on overdrive. He didn’t doubt that Sichang was stupid enough to try and kill him right here, but this might prove to be his lucky break. The man had the suitcase right there. He could pretend to surrender, then snatch the suitcase and leap out of here. He would be home free, as it was easy enough to evade the much more muscular and less agile Triad members and deliver the payload to his client before the Dragon Head could even blink. 

He smiled to himself. He loved it when a plan came together. Unfortunately, however, McCree had entirely different plans.

“Didn’t your momma teach you that being greedy is a bad thing?”

The glare Hanzo sent him was hot enough to set something on fire. He wasn’t the only one who was annoyed. Sichang turned to him with a look as if he was witnessing a pile of turds. 

“Stay out of this, cowboy. Unless you want a bullet in your head too, you best get out of here. You don’t even know who you’re talking to.”

The bounty hunter chuckled, casually flicking away the bud of his cigar. “Oh, I do. You’re Tse Sichang, leader of the 20K, entrepreneur and professional asshat. And you clearly don’t know who you’re talking to either. Name’s Jesse McCree and I’m one of the finest sharpshooters if not _the_ finest, in the entire Western hemisphere!”

The Dragon Head gave him a malicious, disdainful look. “And what is that even supposed to mean?”

Hanzo could see how McCree reached for a beer and casually took a swig of it. Then and there, he knew what was coming. By now, his fingers were digging into the tablecloth and he was muttering under his breath.

“McCree, don’t start. Keep calm. You’re only making it w...”

“What that means is I’m putting a cap in your ass. And your associates’. Within seconds. It’s high noon somewhere in the world.”

Instantly, the mercenary’s hand got reacquainted with his own face. “Goddamn Yankee…”

That was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Within seconds, Sichang and his associates brought out the big guns, quite literally so. McCree saw it coming and reacted. In one fast move, he kicked the table towards their opponents and drew his own peacemaker. 

Hanzo opted for another approach. Instead, he grabbed his wrapped bow, ran and dove behind the nearby bar. He could hear bullets flying and glass shattering all around him. Somewhere besides him, the barman was weeping in Cantonese about damages, but he didn’t care. Instead, he rapidly unwrapped his bow, grabbed an arrow and tried to put it on the weapon, only to be hampered by the jacket of that damn overpriced suit he was wearing. He growled, already more than fed up with the evening and everything that came with it.

“Hm. Forget this.”

In one swift movement, he shrugged off the jacket and, when that didn’t prove enough, casually shredded the shirt underneath. Now free to properly use his bow, he started to return fire. Much to the delight of the bounty hunter, who was unleashing his dead-eye while hiding behind a dragon statue. 

“See, I told you this would be fun!”

If Hanzo thought he could get away with it, he would have shot him himself. “Speak for yourself! Things are turning into a mess! Someone must have called for reinforcements by now!”

It didn’t deter Jesse in the slightest. “Guess we should speed this up then!”

The mercenary shot some Japanese curses at him under his breath, instead focusing on keeping wave after wave of enemies at bay. By now, the band in the other room had struck up a rousing tune and he was sure he could see money change hands just outside the area, as people came to watch the brawl. Leave it to McCree to turn the whole thing into a spectacle…

This only annoyed him further, though it did improve his aim as he racked up a lovely collection of headshots. Soon, Triad members were falling like flies and as the chaos died down somewhat, he started looking around. Now where was that damn suitcase?

Peering over the edge of the bar counter, he scanned the environment. It didn’t take long for him to find it, but unfortunately, it was still attached to the arm of Tse Sichang. The Dragon Head had somehow managed to evade the immediate onslaught and was hiding behind a pillar. He saw how the man took out another handgun and aimed it at the head of an oblivious McCree as he battled his henchmen. The mercenary felt his heart stop and instantly, his brain screamed he had to act.

He didn’t hesitate, pulling an arrow to from his quiver and putting it on his bow. 

“Ryū ga waga teki wo kurau!”

Almost immediately, a blue dragon spirit answered his call and shot towards the target. Jesse, already familiar with the Shimada and their neon dragon shenanigans, saw it coming and rapidly ducked for cover. Sichang was not so lucky.

With a word that was definitely Cantonese for “oh, shit”, the man and dragon collided. There was a blue light, the sound of someone not so quietly pissing their pants and suddenly, a booming shockwave tore through the area, annihilating the Dragon Head, some Ming vases and a good chunk of the wall behind him. That and way too many bottles of good liquor. 

There was a brief silence in the air as Hanzo surveyed the results of his work. By now, the room looked as if Godzilla had stampeded through it, but all Triad members were either dead or injured, so at least the threat was gone and McCree was still alive. That made him somewhat happy. At least, he felt that way until he heard the whine of an American drawl. 

“Aw man, you took my kill!”

The Shimada son glared at him from behind the counter, flustered and irritated. “Well, you took too long!”

He got a huff in response. “Whatever, I’ll get you a drink on me. Just lemme get some evidence and we’ll be on our way.”

The cowboy stooped down and started to remove some items from the target’s body. In the meantime, Hanzo leaped over the bar, careful to avoid the broken glass, and started looking for the damn suitcase. Or at least, he was planning to until a strange beeping noise caught his attention. 

He looked around, hands on his bow, only to then turn to McCree. Apparently the bounty hunter had heard it too and was concerned enough to also start searching. As the beeping noise intensified in frequency, they found the source. A small, device in Sichang’s belt, with a timer displaying numbers counting down in big, bright red letters. They stared at each other, with Jesse’s next words perfectly illustrating their joint sentiments.

“Oh crap.”

The next thing the mercenary was aware of was being dragged by the arm as the bounty hunter once again demonstrated his disregard for architecture and burst through the nearest window. Barely had they leaped onto the streets or a giant fireball tore open what was left of the club’s wall. The explosion burst open a couple of fire hydrants as well, spraying chunks of stone, cement and glass shards and setting off a chorus of car alarms in the vicinity.

As smoke billowed to the sky, both Hanzo and McCree simply lay there for a moment, looking over the wreckage. One with an utter look of dismay at the destruction they’d caused. The other with casual indifference. 

“Well, that didn’t go as planned.”

The Shimada glared. “And whose fault is that exactly?”

McCree turned to him, frowning. “Hey, he started it by attempting to kill you! Also, not that I’m complaining, but what happened to your shirt?”

The mercenary opened his mouth to wordlessly scream, only to close it again and simply stare at him with tranquil fury, talking slowly and deliberately. “My shirt is gone, Jesse McCree. Discarded, shredded, obliterated in great balls of fire and utter carelessness. Just like the payload _I was offered a fortune for to retrieve_!”

“What, this suitcase?”

Shimada’s face turned into the world’s most baffled expression as the bounty hunter triumphantly held up the expensive suitcase. Somehow, the thing didn’t have so much as a scratch on it. Somewhere, Hanzo could feel his brain break. 

“You…actually got it?”

“Yeah, well, I figured you really wanted it, so I grabbed it before bailing. Also, you got rid of Sichang quite spectacularly, so I figured I should return the favor.”

With a smile, the bounty hunter handed it over. The Shimada son swiftly pried it open to look inside, only to let out a relieved sigh. The artifacts inside where still intact, cushioned by styrofoam, ready for delivery to the client. For once, he actually felt like smiling. The mission hadn’t gone entirely to hell after all…

He got to his feet, looking over the carnage one more time as he swore he heard sirens in the distance. “So…what now? I won’t be able to show my face here in Macau for a while...”

McCree shrugged. “Deliver the payload, hitch a ferry to Taiwan and get drunk?”

After a few seconds of thinking, Hanzo grinned. “Yes, sure. Why not?”

_**-Taipei, 8AM-**_

“Well hello, gorgeous!”

Hanzo groaned as he heard McCree’s voice beside him. Remembering what happened last night did nothing for his headache and the added noise certainly didn’t help. He massaged his temples, thinking of some way to stop the jackhammer currently pounding his skull. 

“Why are you still here?”

The cowboy yawned and stretched. “You asked me to. You were quite the jolly fellow with some alcohol down your gullet. And then the sex…”

“Not now, McCree.”

“Hey don’t sweat it, we did use c…”

“I said shut it, Eastwood!”

He groaned as the bounty hunter burst out laughing and slipped out of bed. He staggered over to the desk and grabbed one of the plastic water bottles there, downing the contents. It made him feel better, if only a little. With that newfound sense of clarity, he turned back to his bedmate who was enjoying the view entirely too much.

“I asked you to stay?”

McCree nodded, comfortably leaning back in bed. “Yeah. Said you felt lonely and needed someone to talk to. So I did. You had a lot to say too. The booze has kinda dulled my recollection, but I remember we talked about your brother a lot.”

Instantly, Hanzo froze over, only for him to shook his head. “Don’t worry. I don’t kiss and tell.”

For a second, the mercenary thought about responding, but then decided not to. Instead, he looked around the room, wondering where his clothes were. He found underwear, the suit’s pants and a very ugly “I heart Macau” shirt he no doubt bought to be allowed onto the ferry. McCree frowned as he started to dress himself.

“Leaving again soon?”

He nodded. “Yes. I have to go back to Japan soon. I have an anniversary to uphold. And what about you? Are you going back to Santa Fe?”

Jesse grinned. “Home sweet home. Though I don’t doubt we’ll run into each other again soon. The world of hired killers is an awfully small one.”

Hanzo rolled his eyes. “Next time, make sure nothing blows up. And leave that ridiculous cowboy hat at home. Wyatt Earp died centuries ago.”

“Says the man who leaves a tit bare in his Edo period ninja garb.”

“Why do I even engage in these conversations with you?”

“Because you love me and I’m great company? And I give a mean blowj…”

“I swear to Amaterasu, I’ll…”

By now, McCree was simply laughing his ass off. “Alright, alright, I'll stop. You just make it way too easy.”

All that did was earn him another glare from the Shimada son, but he hardly seemed bothered. He got up too, quickly gathering his clothes and putting them on, then putting the proof of his target’s death into his pocket. He then walked over to the mercenary as he still stood there with his arms crossed. 

Hanzo already prepared to say something, but he didn’t get the chance. Jesse pulled him close and dealt out the sloppiest, most inappropriate kiss a man with a light hangover could muster. Not that the Japanese male was going to complain about that. If anything, he was more annoyed when he finally pulled back.

“I won’t hold you up any longer. Just wanna say I had a lot of fun and it was wonderful seeing you again. Enjoy the money. You’ve earned it.”

Having said that, he tipped his hat and then walked to the hotel room’s door. He opened it and stepped through, ready to leave. Though not without saying the one thing that always made Hanzo smile as they parted ways, putting his thumb and pinky to his ear and grinning. 

“Call me.”


End file.
